


The End

by MayM



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b, John Dies, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayM/pseuds/MayM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is dead. Moriarty isn't.<br/>John won't be Stayin' Alive for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

White noise crackles beneath the rumbling voices of BBC Radio Four. John Watson sits in his armchair in his too big, blue dressing gown, inhaling with every steady breath the earthy yet tinted with tobacco scent that still clings to the soft fabric. He straightens the newspaper with a rustle. Sea blue eyes skim across the front page, almost interested with the potential murder that used to fuel his life, yet he barely takes in the words that glare up at him in black and white. He sighs. A frown crumples his forehead as a thrumming guitar and back beat start to play. He specifically choose this channel for the lack of music. His stomach clenches and a cold weight pulls down his chest as the familiar feeling of fear creeps up on him. It's the song. THE song. Memories he had tried to forget of that leering face slash through his mind, the grin, the crinkle around his eyes as he talked, his ordinary yet powerful frame. Moriarty. The song rings in his ears, although that song had saved John and Sherlock from their deaths, it mocks him, drawing suppressed memories from his broken mind. He had been so close to losing Sherlock that night that it reminds him of the time he did. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to concentrate on just breathing, yet as he inhales and exhales, a small voice pipes up in his mind. 

A thought dashes through his mind, "Why are the people talking over the song?" He opens one eye and stares at the radio. Rising to his feet, he tentatively steps towards it, his strides long but slow. Extending his hand, he flicks the switch on the radio. The voices stop. The song continues. 

"And they lived happily ever after," a soft voice whispers in his ear. A hand grabs his right hip, and he hears the whistle of something cutting through the air. Before he can react, a knife plunges into his throat just behind his windpipe, and yanks forward, splitting open his neck and allowing the rapid pulse of blood to explode from him with a gurgle. Small tubes and strings slip out of the ripped skin, a river of blood running over the handle and trickling down through Moriarty's suit's sleeve to his elbow. John Watson's life slips away and his twitches stop as he slumps into Moriarty, the newspaper falling to the floor. Moriarty sighs, rolling his head, a smile flickering on his lips, his eyes closed.  

He lets his tight grasp on the handle go, the blade lodged into John's neck, and drops the dead man, who then crumples to the floor in his own puddle of blood. The sweet feeling of pleasure from taking someone's life courses through his body as he murmurs, "The end,".


End file.
